


Anything You Feel...Put It All On Me

by SereneCalamity



Series: Give In To Him [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Billy's got feels, Billys POV, Boys Kissing, Communication, Daddy Kink, Feels, Finally, Hand Jobs, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Sexual Content, Soft Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 19:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneCalamity/pseuds/SereneCalamity
Summary: Billy knows that something has been going on with Steve recently, and he knows that they need to talk about.





	Anything You Feel...Put It All On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so...This turned out a bit different than I expected, but I hope you guys enjoy it. This is our first dip into Billy's POV as well, soooooo...That should be interesting.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the title, which is from All You Need To know by Gryffin and Slander. Also this isn't edited yet, that'll be done later, at some point. Lol.

Billy Hargrove wasn't an idiot.

Not when it came to a lot of things, and especially not when it came to Steve Harrington.

Maybe he didn't speak up and make it as obvious as he could, but he knew a lot of things, and he knew when something was off, and wrong, and something had been going on for about the past month, and he had been waiting for Steve to just _tell_ him what had been going on in his head, but it was becoming very obvious that he wasn't going to.

He had to be careful though, because Steve didn't like having talks.

Not that Billy was much better—there had endured exactly one important talk in his entire life time that he ever remembers having, and that was the one where his mother came into his room late one night when he was in bed and drowsy with sleep and she told him in hushed tones that she was leaving. Billy had _known_, even at the age of eight, that it was important but he had been completely frozen under the covers, with his Barney stuffed dinosaur under his arm, as he had listened to his mother talk. She had told him that things were too hard, that she couldn't stay there any longer, that she wished she could take him with her, but she couldn't. And then she was gone and Billy was shaking under his duvet and the tears were streaming down his face and he knew that his life had just taken an awful turn for the absolute worse.

He had avoided all other attempts at _talks_. With girls who wanted to be more than friends when he had been in high school and needed to keep up a facade for his father, with boys when he was a teenager who he might actually have feelings for but couldn't allow himself to let anything develop with. Maybe if his father _wasn't_ a complete an utter asshole, there might have been some sort of _talk_ when Susan Mayfield—now Susan Hargrove—and he had started getting serious, and _definitely _when they got engaged, then when her and Maxine Mayfield had moved in, and when they got married. But it wasn't as though he and his father had ever gotten on, or as though Neil had ever been a decent guy, so that had never happened. And then he and Max had always scrapped like cats and dogs until one day, she saw how bad Neil was, and then they had both kind of just chilled out. They'd never had a _talk_ about it though, not like they should have, even after all of these years, when they now acted like actual siblings, they still didn't really talk. There had been two guys, after he had left Hawkins but before he had run into Steve, but there had always been hang ups, something that had stopped him from having _talks_ with them as well.

Steve, though, Steve had had a lot of talks.

He'd told Billy in bits and pieces over the years, usually when he was drunk or stoned.

A couple of times when he was in a really bad head space and Billy had him wrapped in a blanket was cuddled up next to him on the couch or in his bed.

Steve's talks had started when he was young, before he had even really known what they were. His mother usually, when she was telling him that they were going out of town and that he was going to be staying with the nanny. Sometimes his father, but he was usually just present, rather than doing anything of the speaking. When he got older, and he skipped his way through nannies, he often had to have talks with them. When he left his clothes lying around, when he ate too many sweets, when he let his hair get too long, when he put on the tiniest amount of weight, when he started showing interest in his mothers make up, when he called a boy pretty for the first time, when he found it difficult to keep up in school—the word _stupid_ was thrown around and it cut him deep, even though he tried not to show it. The talks with his parents pretty much stopped once a full time nanny moved in, even when they weren't away on _business_, and they just disappeared for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Eventually, the nannies disappeared as well, and he was left to look after himself. There were some talks with teachers and coaches at school, which Steve found hard, because he just had this in built desire to please, and by the time, he had realized how _much he hated talks_, and he really just wasn't the best when it came to academics and sports. And then there was Nancy Wheeler.

They had been in school for a while together, but he only really started paying attention to her when he was seventeen and she was sixteen, and they had been together for a while, although by the time Billy had arrived in town, they had _definitely_ be on the way out. Maybe he had just noticed because of how closely he had been watching Steve, but he had heard comments from others about how Nancy and Jonathan Byers were apparently getting it on. Now he knew that they had gotten close, and although nothing had physically happened between them, he still wasn't happy with the way things had worked out. Emotionally, things were a whole other story. Nancy had been a mess after her best friend, Barb Holland, had been killed and Steve had tried to help her as much as she could, but he just didn't have the emotional capacity for it, not as a teenager. And she didn't know what she wanted. It had actually been at the first party that Billy had ever gone to in Hawkins that they had gotten into a fight and she had screamed _bullshit_ at him when he had told her that he loved her.

Billy hadn't known any of that as a teenager, and that was probably a good thing, because he had been cruel and would have used it to his advantage back then. He knew that it seemed like they had broken up, but that had been it. Now, he knew that Steve had shut himself off, and refused to talk to Nancy, not wanting to have any more of the dreaded _talks_ that had never gone well for them. When it had finally happened, she had officially broken it off. Billy couldn't help that now that he was close with Steve, there was a little bit of resentment toward Nancy, because he could remember, even now, how distraught Steve had been in their senior year of high school. Maybe there was also some resentment and some other confusing feelings toward Nancy because Steve had loved her first, and loved her a lot, and it was as though he had her on this pedestal, and even after all of these years, he was still a little in love with her, and that she could do no wrong.

There had been a few other talks over the years, never with his family, because his parents were pretty much non-existent in his life at this point, although it seemed like they weren't always bad at this point. Because _he_ was the one having them with the kids—Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair and sometimes even Mike Wheeler, when the kid wasn't charging head first into situations without asking for help first. Sometimes he quietly got talks from Joyce Byers, but they were loving and soft and never laced with barbs and only ever good intentioned, and Billy knew that Steve accepted her words, but only because of the years that she had been in his life, and because of the relationship that they had. The other talks all relating to relationships—the ones that happened after high school, which he was going through college, one even while he was living with Billy, had never been great.

One guy had cheated on Steve, one had girl had been there when he had woken up from nightmares and called him a freak, another guy couldn't deal with the fact that sometimes Steve was _okay_ all the time—he didn't always operate at a hundred, there were days when he was more delicate than others.

Billy hated every single one of them, hated them for reinforcing the ideas that Steve already had about himself, that there was something wrong about him and that he needed to be fixed and that anyone that he got close to was going to leave.

It had been a while, though, since Steve had been in a relationship with anyone, other than whatever it was that they had going on, and Billy thought that what they had was _working_. Steve had seemed happy, Billy had been happy, but then something happened, after they had come back from Hawkins. At first, Billy had been a bit preoccupied, because he was still reeling with the fact his father was finally gone for _good_, that he hadn't noticed that Steve was hardly ever home, and only replying to messages when Billy was the one messaging him first. But then he _had_ noticed, and he couldn't help but pick up on all the other things. The way Steve was going over board on cleaning around the house, like he did when he felt nervous, and how he was changing the colour of his nail polish every other day or the way Steve was sitting at the other end of the couch whenever they did happen to be together. And then he had gone out and gotten drunk and got himself a tattoo.

Other people when they got a tattoo, Billy wouldn't have given a second thought.

Steve when he got a tattoo was a sign that something was wrong.

But he was drunk and he was trying to call Billy daddy and it was completely distracting and Billy had a hard time keeping his cock in his pants, there was no way he would be able to hold any type of conversation with Steve that he really needed to. Besides, he shouldn't have any talk with Steve while he was drunk, so he had just gotten him into bed, but he couldn't help the way calling himself _daddy_ had slipped out as he had stroked a hand down Steve's side, pulling the other boy in close to him.

It had been a couple of days now, Tuesday, and Billy knew that he had to talk to Steve. So he had text him while he had been on his lunch break, asking Steve if he wanted him to sort out dinner for that night. It felt as though half the time, Steve wasn't even coming home for dinner, but if Billy prompted him, he guessed that he probably would.

_Sounds good. I'm happy with whatever_, came Steve's reply.

It wasn't particularly helpful, but at least it sounded as though Steve was going to be home that night before Billy went to sleep. Billy went back from his break early, so that he could move on quickly with the rest of the cars he had on his roster for the day. They didn't really have a fixed finish time, just sometime between four and five, and so when Billy managed to get all of his work finished by four, he shouted out a goodbye and headed out of the garage to go home for an early night.

He really wasn't good with romantic shit.

At all.

But he was getting pretty good with Steve shit.

Steve liked these aromatherapy candles that he kept in his room and sometimes brought to the bathroom when he was having a self-care night. There was _rosewood and blossom _and _pear and jasmine _and _lavender and sage_. They all smelt really good, and Steve didn't use them enough, in Billy's opinion, given how much Steve liked them—he should use them all the time if they made him happy. So after Billy showered and made sure to clean up after himself in the bathroom, he went into Steve's room and went to the shelf where he kept all of the candles and took them out into the lounge, dotting them around the place, on the coffee table, on the entertainment unit, on the side table beside the couch, on the shelves where they had DVDs and books and some framed photographs.

There was an unopened bottle of rosé in the fridge, which would be Steve's, and Billy sat on the back of the couch and scrolled through his phone to decide what to order for dinner. They had pizza most of the time, especially in the weekends, when they were stoned or drunk, although they hadn't in the past couple of weeks because Steve hadn't actually been home. Thai was Steve's go-to but Billy wasn't a big fan, and Indian was Billy's other number one option but Steve was a wuss when it came to anything spicy, so he always had to get super-mild and Billy couldn't share it with him because he wasn't a fan of the creamy stuff. In the end, he decided on a burger place that they had only tried a few times, because it was pretty expensive.

But they were _gourmet_ burgers, and they had been really good, so Billy sent off another text to Steve, telling him to send him a message when he was on his way home and he would order dinner then. Steve just replied with a simple _yup_, which made Billy feel even more nervous, but he tried not to think about it. He had something to smoke, finishing off what was left in the bowl of their bong, and then cleaned it out, repacking it for Steve if he wanted some when he got there.

Just before five, he got a text from Steve, saying that he was leaving work, so Billy ordered burgers, onion rings and curly fries with extra sauces on the side because Steve went through garlic aioli like nobodies business to be delivered by Postmates. It was raining outside, and Billy went around the apartment, pulling all the curtains shut and making sure all the windows were locked, because the place got damp stupidly easy, and then they had to run a dehumidifier for days afterwards and that just threw their power bill up even higher.

Yet another reason as to why he was looking at the possibility of moving.

He poured a glass of rosé and snapped the lid off a beer and put them on the coffee table, then moved around the lounge with his lighter and lit up all of the candles. Afterwards, he stood back and looked around the lounge, hands resting on his hips and upper lip curling as he wondered if all of this was _way_ too much and over the top.

He felt like a fucking housewife, waiting on her husband to get home at the end of the day.

"Billy?" Steve's voice was uncertain behind him and Billy jolted a little, surprised he hadn't heard the front door open, and when he turned, Steve was looking around the room with wide eyes. "Um..." he trailed off, blinking a few times. His hair was damp from the rain outside, a few strands of hair sticking to his face, and so were his clothes, and Billy couldn't help the way his mind instantly starting worrying about Steve being wet and cold, because he had a shit immune system and he had already had a cold twice this year.

"Did you want to go have a shower? Dinner should be here by the time you get out," Billy prompted him gently. If this was a couple of weeks ago, before the funeral and whatever had happened after that that had made Steve feel so uncertain, he would joined him in the shower, but he didn't. He didn't even more forward to give him a hug or kiss because he didn't want Steve to feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Steve murmured. "Yeah, okay," he was still looking around the room and his fingers were twitching at his sides, and Billy felt as though he'd taken a misstep somewhere here.

He had wanted Steve to feel comforted and soothed when he got home, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

He really just wanted to know what was going on.

If he had done something wrong, or if someone else had said something to Steve that had tipped him over the edge, because _something_ was going on.

Steve was still in the shower twenty minutes later, and the food arrived around the time the pipes stopped creaking in the walls. Billy was halfway through his bottle of beer when Steve appeared back in the lounge, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a fluffy pink sweater that showed off most of his collarbones. His hair was towel dried and a bit of a mess around his head, and Billy moved to sit in the arm chair beside where the hair dryer was plugged in, giving Steve a small smile, hoping that he would move to sit down.

It used to be most nights that Billy would dry his hair, kind of a nightly ritual, but given Steve's irregular schedule recently, it hadn't really been happening.

Steve gave him a small smile and moved to sit on the ground between Billy's legs, and Billy couldn't help the sigh of relief he let out, and he reached out and stroked his fingers through Steve's hair before he picked up the hair dryer.

"Stream whatever you want, baby," Billy murmured as he looked toward the blank TV. Steve took his phone out of his pocket and it looked as though he had opened the Netflix app, but by the time Billy had started drying his hair, his body had just relaxed and his head was tilted backwards and it seemed as though watching TV was the last thing on his mind. Billy didn't mind, drying Steve's hair thoroughly, his eyes looking down at Steve's exposed collarbones and then down at his hands, the delicate long fingers that were folded over one another in his lap, his fingernails painted a soft mint green with sparkles, before focusing back on Steve's hair.

Once his hair was thoroughly dry, Billy brushed it gently, untangling any knots with patient fingers, and his thumbs gently digging into the base of Steve's neck, massaging at the tension there. Steve's body seemed looser and less tense than it had in weeks, and Billy liked that. His fingers moved through Steve's hair and massaged his skull, and Steve's head lulled backwards, leaning against Billy's knee and his breathing steady. After Billy had brushed his hair and put the brush down on the nearby table and started massaging Steve's bare shoulders, working through the tension with his rough fingers.

"Baby?" Billy kept is voice intentionally light. "I need you to tell me what's been going on with you lately."

It was an almost instant response, he felt Steve's shoulders tense right back up and he straightened up, pulling away from where he had been leaning against Billy. Billy took in a deep breath, because he didn't know how he was supposed to do this. He didn't _have_ these _talks_, and whenever things came out between them, it was just...It was just that. There wasn't a bit conversation about it, it just came out. So actually going into all of this with the intention of having a _talk_ was all very new.

Billy kept rubbing Steve's shoulders, though, trying to keep the exact same pressure that he had before, but he leaned forward a bit now and pressed his knees against either side of Steve's shoulders, knowing that generally he felt better, he felt grounded when there was pressure around him, keeping him centred. He had a slight plan, although it was all really being made up as he went along, adapting to however Steve reacted, and he knew that it was all a bit fuzzy since it wasn't something that he and Steve had properly discussed beforehand.

"Why don't you want to tell daddy what's wrong, baby?" Billy asked gently as his thumbs focused on a knot in Steve's left shoulder. "Hm?" He felt a shuddering exhale from Steve, and his body relaxed a tiny bit again and that made Billy feel as though he was getting something right. The knot loosened and Billy smoothed his fingers out along Steve's shoulders. "Can you tell daddy what's wrong?" He tried again, and then he felt another movement from Steve, this time a sharper one, and Billy's eyebrows pulled together tightly before he tugged on Steve's shoulder so that he was half-turned around to face him, and he saw tear tracks down Steve's face. "Steve, baby," Billy breathed, panic filling him. "Okay, come here," he put his hands under Billy's arms, jerking him upward in a movement that was all slightly awkward and Steve's legs scrabbled on the ground as well, until Steve was in Billy's lap and Billy's arms were around him. "Steve," Billy stated, trying to keep his voice even. "What is going on?"

"You're going to leave me!" Steve blurted out, and there were more tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes and falling down his face, but his gaze had turned angry. Billy knew that it was a defense mechanism, and he couldn't help but feel _relief_ at the comment, because at least he knew what was wrong now, and honestly, it wasn't anything new. Steve had been dealing with abandonment issues long before Billy had come into the picture. Maybe it was just something about going back to Hawkins that had brought it all back up and centred the focus on Billy.

"No, baby, I'm not gonna leave you," Billy murmured, rubbing a hand up and down Steve's back gently.

"Yes, you _are_!" Steve spat out, and he sounded even more angry now. "Don't lie!" Billy paused, frowning, and Steve twisted his head to look at Billy. "I saw a message on your phone, from a realtor, about some place you're looking at. Why would you be looking at places if you weren't thinking about leaving me?" Billy swallowed hard before looking down and letting out a sigh.

"Okay," he pursed his lips. "Okay, I think...I think we need to make sure we're talking, okay?"

"I fucking hate talking," Steve snipped.

"So do I," Billy replied, trying to keep his voice gentle. "But...Baby, I was looking at places for _us_." Steve stiffened and his face finally smoothed out. Billy lifted the hand that wasn't wrapped around Steve's back, touching Steve's face gently and wiping at the tears on Steve's cheek. "We've been in this apartment since we first moved in together, for, like, over three years. And it was fine when we first moved in here, because we were twenty-two and you had just finished college and I had only just finished my apprenticeship. But we're on better money now, and honestly? I think we deserve somewhere better. I know we could definitely afford it, even if things were a bit tighter." He didn't mention the credit card that Steve used occasionally when they really needed it, the one that his father paid for, because neither of them liked relying on anyone else. But he'd done the numbers, and overall, they could absolutely afford something better.

"You—it was for us?" Steve sounded breathless.

"Yes, of course it was for us," Billy told him, and he was smiling, because he was just _so happy_, that this wasn't over. That him and Steve weren't over. They had never labeled what they were doing, but his biggest problem was that if something happened between them, he would lose the friendship he had with Steve.

Because honestly, sometimes it felt as though it was the only thing that mattered.

"And—and it honestly wasn't even serious, not yet. I would have talked to you about it before I seriously made any steps. I was just looking at some places online and I sent in some questions about a few places that I thought would be good," Billy assured Steve quickly, nearly tripping over his words. "Honestly, you can look through my listings and the questions I've asked if you want to." But Steve was staring down at him with an open expression on his face and clear eyes for the first time in weeks and then he leaned down and kissed Billy hard on the mouth.

Billy let out a punched out sound as Steve scrambled to turn around, knees on either side of Billy's hips and arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed their chests together.

It had been too long since they had done this—they hadn't fooled around since they had been back in Hawkins, and there had only been some brief kisses since then—and Steve's body pressed up against his felt as though he was finally back where he belonged.

Steve sounded and felt desperate as Billy felt, which had them stripping Billy out of his shirt but when Steve's hands went to his pink jumper, Steve put his hands over his.

"No, baby," Billy whispered. "You look so pretty in your sweater, want you to keep it on." Steve's cheeks reddened as he nodded, and then they struggled to get out of their sweatpants and briefs without moving too much, although in the end, Steve had to get off his lap to finally get his briefs off from around his ankles, and then he was right back on top of Billy, hitching his sweatshirt up so that their cocks could bump together.

"_Shit_," Steve squeezed his eyes shut when Billy wrapped a big hand around both of their cocks as far as he could. It was a little dry, given they were using any lube, but it was the best thing that had happened in weeks, and neither of them wanted any interruptions.

"I can't believe you thought I was going to leave you, baby," Billy shook his head, and the hand that wasn't stretching it's way around their cocks cupped Steve's face, his thumb pressed under his chin. "I could never leave you, not ever." Steve blinked at him, eyes all big and doe eyed as he stared at Billy. "All I want to do is look after you..."

"And be my daddy?" Steve breathed as he tilted his head to the side, hair flopping over his forehead. His eyes were so wide and they looked a little wet in the corners and Billy just wanted to kiss away the pain that he was still clearly feeling, even though the edges had been smoothed over. His heart also seized at the uttered question.

"If that's what you want," Billy murmured, because yes, that's what he wanted, but it wasn't as though they had had a full blown discussion about this. He'd never really talked about it with anyone that he'd really fucked around with before, but it had never meant as much as it would or as much as it _did_ when it came to Steve, and so he didn't want Steve to just go along with it because it was something that Billy wanted.

Because Steve did that.

Steve _had_ done that, with other people he had been with.

And Billy never wanted it to be like that with them.

"Do you not want that? I thought...You did..." Steve's voice was tentative and the rocking of his hips slowed down just a little bit. Billy tightened his fingers around their cocks and he also tightened the fingers on Steve's cheek. The thumb that had been under Steve's chin moved, pressing against Steve's lower lip and he shook his head.

"I never said that," Billy told him gently. "I told you I _did_ want it, and we talked about it a little bit, but I just don't want you to do something that you're not comfortable with." Steve's eyes blurred a little as the tip of his tongue flicked out and pressed against Billy's thumb.

"You don't make me do things I'm not comfortable with," Steve murmured, his eyes still hooked on Billy's. "I don't know why I was stupid and doubted you." Billy's eyes hardened at that, and he couldn't stop the flare of anger in his chest at the word that Steve had heard _far_ too many times in his life. His hand slipped, wrapping loosely around Steve's throat, in a way that made Steve's eyes flare in undisguised interest, which was something that he filed away for later.

"You are _not_ stupid," he said, his voice sounded fierce, even to his own ears. "Never say that about yourself, okay?"

"But, I—"

"No, Steve," Billy shook his head, making sure to using Steve's actual name to convey how important it was to him for Steve to hear what he was saying. "Never say that about yourself." Steve stared at him for a long moment before dipping his head in a nod. Billy swallowed hard, eyebrows still pulled together as he regarded Steve, wanting to make sure that they definitely had an understanding, before he drew Steve in by his throat, never squeezing very tightly, more just holding gently, and their lips came together again.

It wasn't quite as desperate as before, and Billy had control of the kiss. Steve seemed more than happy to give up that control, slumping his shoulders a little and seeming to make himself smaller in Billy's lap. Billy held Steve's in place as his hand began moving his hand over their cocks again, swallowing the little gasps that Steve let out.

"You're so pretty, Stevie," Billy whispered, sucking Steve's lower lip into his mouth, teeth nibbling at the soft flesh and savoring the whimpers from the brunette. "Are you gonna come for me? Come all over my hand? Make a mess for me?" There was a sharp sound from deep in Steve's throat and his hips thrust upward into Billy's fist at his words, head dropping back and exposing his neck completely. Billy tightened his hand around Steve's throat, and he felt the way Steve responded, jerking and fingers scratching at his bare chest. "Come on, princess, come for me," Billy murmured and Steve's body stiffened before he was spilling over Billy's hand, covering both Billy's fingers and also Billy's cock with come.

"_Daddy_," Steve sighed out, the word barely loud enough for Billy to hear, but he _did_, and that tiny, five-lettered word made his body jerk and then he was coming as well, eyes squeezing shut and hand slipping to grip at Steve's shoulder so that he didn't squeeze too tight around his neck. Maybe he bit Steve's lip a little too hard though, because there was a metallic taste in his mouth, but Steve didn't seem to mind, from the way that his body had seemed to completely relax in his arms.

Neither of them spoke as Billy moved his hand away from their still half-hard cocks, making a bit of a face as he wiped it roughly on his chest before wrapping his arms around Steve. Steve didn't seem to care that he was _definitely_ getting come on his sweater as he leaned against Billy, burying his head in his neck and just catching his breath as Billy stroked his clean hand up and down his spine. He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually he tapped on Steve's arm. Even though he groaned in protest, Steve pulled back and looked at him blearily, face still adorably flushed.

"We should get cleaned up," Billy said gently, not wanting to rush Steve, but also wanting to make sure that he wasn't getting cold, and that he ate properly tonight. Given how often he hadn't been at home recently, he wasn't sure how much he had been eating—especially since when he got like this, caught up in his head and insecure and worried, along with getting a new tattoo or possibly a piercing, not eating tended to be something that he did. "And then we should eat."

"Okay," Steve mumbled, nodding his head a few times. Billy helped Steve to his feet first before he got up, and he took Steve's hand, leading him to the bathroom. They didn't talk as they washed their hands, and then Billy wet a cloth and cleaned both of them between their legs.

"We'll get a different sweater for you, yeah, baby?" Billy prompted him gently as they left the bathroom, the dirty cloth tossed toward the corner where the wash basket was, and walked down the short hall. Steve just held his arms up as Billy pulled at the hem of the sweater, and then Billy was taking it up and over his head, throwing it to the ground as he went through Steve's drawers to find another soft sweatshirt to wear. There was a lavender coloured one that was a bit tighter than the pink one had been, and there were some designs around the neckline and hem, but it was still nice and soft. Billy made a mental note to come back in and grab the pink sweater to throw it in the washing basket as they walked back into the lounge where their sweatpants and briefs were, along with their drinks, food and the still burning candles. After they had changed, they settled on the couch, Steve sitting almost over the middle mark of the couch, so that his thigh was shoved up hard against Billy's.

They didn't talk anymore, not about anything, even when they chose what they were going to watch on the TV, Billy just deciding to put on _Big Mouth_.

Maybe they should, but it felt as though they had done another for the day.

Fuck, the month.

Steve was clinging when they decided to go to bed, trailing behind Billy as he threw away their rubbish and then rinsed out Steve's empty wine glass and then moved around the lounge and blew out the candles.

"Want me to sleep with you?" Billy asked, as he turned off the lights and they headed to the rooms. Whenever they slept together, it was always in Steve's bed, just because Steve's bed was bigger and he had ridiculously expensive pillows that he always demanded go back to his room if they slept, so it just made sense. He'd already started to turn toward the brunette's bedroom door when Steve stopped, pulling on the shirt the blonde was wearing.

"I want to sleep with you," Steve muttered, eyes swinging to Billy's room. Billy was nodding before he had even thought through how long it had been since he had cleaned his room—the one place in their apartment that Steve _didn't_ clean.

"Yeah, course," he murmured as he followed Steve into his room. Steve got into the bed and immediately shuffled over the mattress so that he was laying on the side by the wall, and Billy momentarily wondered where Steve's phone was before he realized that he honestly didn't care. He felt emotionally drained and just wanted to get into bed beside Steve and go to sleep. "Do you need me to find your phone?" He asked, _really_ hoping he didn't but already preparing to have to drag himself back out the door.

"It's okay," Steve's voice already sounded faraway, like he was half asleep. "I put it on the charger before I got in the shower." Billy nodded in relief, and then made his alarm earlier before plugging it in and then getting in bed beside Steve.

The sheets were cold, but Steve was warm, and Billy feel asleep quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay? So what do we think? I fully intended for full sex to happen in this chapter, but it just didn't feel right? I don't know. Also, the plan for this series is about 10 parts, although I might make it a little longer, I'm not too sure yet. If there's something you guys want to see, flick me a message on my socials?
> 
> Tumblr: SereneCalamity  
Twitter: CalamitySerene


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